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XIV A Maryland Maiden1 WE were all up in the Lutheran Church at Sunday-school on the Sunday before the battle when the Rebel cavalry came dashing through the town. The whole assembly flocked out, and there was nothing but excitement from that on. We just imagined something was going to happen, and the children ran home from church in terror. There was no dinner eaten that day. The people were too frightened. We'd go out the front door and stand waiting to see what would be next to come. I was
twenty years
old then. My father was a blacksmith, and we lived in this same big
stone house
on the main street of the town. I suppose the house was built a hundred
and
fifty or more years ago. Most of us
in this
region favored the Union, and the ladies had made a big flag out of
material that
the townspeople bought. For a while we had it on a pole in the square,
but some
of the Democratic boys cut the flag rope every night. So we took the
flag down
and hung it on a rope stretched across from our garret window to that
of the
house opposite. In pleasant weather it was out all the time. But when
we heard
that Lee had crossed the Potomac Pa began to be uneasy, and he says,
"Girls, what you goin' to do with that flag? If the Rebels come into
town
they'll take it sure as the world." He thought
we'd
better hide it in the ground somewhere. So a lady friend of mine and I
put it
in a strong wooden box, and buried it in the ash pile behind the
smokehouse in
the garden. When the
Rebel
cavalry went through that Sunday we had no idea what they were up to,
and we
couldn’t help being fearful that we were in danger. We expected trouble
that
night, but all was quiet until the next day. Then more Rebels came, and
they
nearly worried us to death asking for something to eat. They were half
famished
and they looked like tramps — filthy and ragged. By Tuesday
there
was enough going on to let us know we were likely to have a battle near
by.
Early in the day two or three Rebels, who'd been informed by some one
that a
Union flag was concealed at my father's place, came right to the house,
and I
met 'em at the door. Their leader said: "We've come to demand that flag
you've got here. Give it up at once or we'll search the house." "I'll not
give
it up, and I guess you'll not come any farther than you are, sir," I
said.
They were
impudent
fellows, and he responded, "If you don't tell me where that flag is
I'll
draw my revolver on you." "It's of
no
use for you to threaten," I said. "Rather than have you touch a fold
of that starry flag I laid it in ashes." They
seemed to be
satisfied then and went away without suspecting just how I'd laid it in
ashes. Tuesday
afternoon
the neighbors began to come in here. Our basement was very large with
thick
stone walls, and they wanted to take refuge in it if there was danger.
There were
women and children of all ages and some very old men. Mostly they stood
roundabout in the yard listening and looking. The cannonading started
late in
the day, and when there was a very loud report they scampered to the
cellar. A lot of
townspeople run out of the village to a cave about three miles from
here near
the Potomac. The cave was just an overhanging ledge of rocks, but
shells and
cannon balls would fly over it and couldn’t hurt the people under the
cliff. I
reckon seventy-five went to that cave. Before
day, on
Wednesday, a cannon ball tore up the pavement out in front of our
house. Oh my
soul! we thought we were gone. There was no more sleep, but most of us
were
awake anyhow. After that, you know, we all flew to the cellar. Very
little was
stored in there at that time of year. We carried down some seats, and
we made
board benches around, and quite a number of us got up on the potato
bunks and
the apple scaffolds. We were as comfortable as we could possibly be in
a
cellar, but it's a wonder we didn’t all take our deaths of colds in
that damp
place. We didn’t
have any
breakfast — you bet we didn’t — and no dinner was got that day, or
supper — no,
indeed! We had to live on fear. But a few of the women thought enough
to bring
some food in their baskets for the children. The battle didn’t prevent
the
children from eating. They didn’t understand the danger. A number
of babies
were there, and several dogs, and every time the firing began extra
hard the
babies would cry and the dogs would bark. Often the reports were so
loud they
shook the walls. Occasionally a woman was quite unnerved and
hysterical, and
some of those old aged men would break out in prayer. In the
height of
the fighting six Rebel soldiers opened the basement door and said,
"We're
comin' in, but we're not a-goin' to hurt you." We had a
spring in
the cellar. The water filled a shallow tank, and that was where our
family got
what water was used in the house. Those refugee soldiers went back in a
little
nook right next to the spring. There they stood like sardines in a box,
and
every once in a while one would slip down into the water. We had two
cows and
a horse in our stable, and at dinner time Mother and I went to feed
'em. We
climbed up to pull down some hay and found the haymow just full of
Rebels
a-layin' there hiding. "Madam,
don't
be frightened," one of 'em said to Mother. "We're hidin' till the
battle is over. We're tired of fightin'. We were pressed into service,
and
we're goin' to give ourselves up as soon as the Yankees get here." And that
was what
they did, When the Yankees rushed into town these Rebels came through
the
garden and gave themselves up as prisoners. There were
deserters hid in every conceivable place in the town. We had a lot of
sacks of
seed wheat on our back porch, and some of the skulkers piled the sacks
up on
the outside of the porch three or four feet high, as a sort of bulwark,
which
they lay down behind to shelter themselves. How they did curse their
leaders
for bringing them into this slaughter pen. They said they hoped the
hottest
place in hell would be their leaders' portion. Some of
the
townsmen in the cellar would come up and venture out under the porch,
but they
were afraid to stay out; and the danger wasn’t just fancied either. A
shell
exploded right out here at our front gate and killed or wounded seven
men. And yet,
mind you,
on Wednesday afternoon, another girl and myself went up to the attic,
and
though the bullets were raining on the roof, we threw open the shutter
and
looked out toward the battleground. We were curious to know what was
going on.
The bullets could have struck us just as easy, but we didn’t seem to
fear them.
On all the distant hills around were the blue uniforms and shining
bayonets of
our men, and I thought it was the prettiest sight I ever saw in my
life. Yes,
there were our men, advancing cautiously, driven back again and again,
but
persistently returning and pushing nearer. My! it was lovely, and I
felt so
glad to think that we were going to get them into town shortly. We
stayed up
there I suppose a couple of hours at that little window, and then old
Dr.
Kelsey came hunting for us and made us come down. I shall always
remember what
we saw from that window, and many times I go up to the attic and look
out, and
the view brings it all back. In the
evening
mother and I slipped down to the stable and did the milking. But
afterward we
went back to the cellar, for the firing kept up till ten o'clock. Then
we came
up and snatched what little bit we could to eat. We didn’t cook
anything but
took what was prepared, like bread and butter and milk. Our neighbors
who had
been in the cellar didn’t attempt to go home. Some of the older ones we
accommodated in beds, others lay on the floors, but the best part of
the people
sat up all night and watched, for we didn’t know what was going to come
on us. About
midnight we
heard the Rebels retreating. Oh! the cannon just came down the hill
bouncing.
And the cavalry — my! if they didn’t dash through here! The infantry,
too, were
going on a dead run, and some of the poor, hungry fellows were so weak
they
were saying to their stronger comrades, "Take hold of my hand, and help
me
along." A lot of 'em were drownded in going across the Potomac. We were
overjoyed
to know that our men had won — yes, we certainly were happy. Well, the
next
morning everything was quiet. It was an unearthly quiet after all the
uproar of
the battle. The people who had taken refuge with us saw that the danger
was
over, and they scattered away to their homes. Father and I went out on
the
front pavement. We could see only a few citizens moving about, but
pretty soon
a Federal officer came cautiously around the corner by the church. He
asked
Father if any one was hurt in the town and said they had tried to avoid
shelling it, and he was awful sorry they couldn’t help dropping an
occasional
shell among the houses. I lost no
time now
in getting our flag from the ash heap so I could have it where it would
be seen
when our men marched into the town. I draped it on the front of the
house, but
I declare to goodness! I had to take that flag down. It made the
officers think
our house was a hotel, and they'd ride up, throw their reins to their
orderlies, and come clanking up the steps with their swords and want
something
to eat. So I hurried to get it swung across the street, and after that,
as the
officers and men passed under it they all took off their hats. Their
reverence
for the flag was beautiful, and so was the flag. I had a
little flag
in my hand, and while I was waving and waving it and cheering our
victorious
troops some prisoners marched by, and, bless your soul! among them I
saw the
very men who had demanded the big flag that was now suspended across
the
street. They looked at the flag and at me and shouted, "You said it was
burned!" and they cursed me till some of our men drew their swords and
quieted 'em down. "We'll settle with you when we come through here
again," they called back, but they never came. Our men
were much
cleaner and better fed than the Rebels, and their clothing was whole.
The
trains soon arrived with the hardtack, and there were baggage wagons
and
ambulances and everything. We had our men here with us quite a while
camped in
the town woods, and so constant was the coming and going of troops and
army
conveyances on the highways that we didn’t get to speak to our
neighbors across
the street for weeks. Those were exciting times, but we felt safe. of
course
there were some common, rough fellows among the soldiers, but as a
general
thing we found them very nice and we became much attached to them. When
they
went away it left us decidedly lonely here. As for the
day of
the battle, it was tragic, but after the fighting was all over and I
just sat
and studied everything that had transpired a good deal was really
laughable. Well, the
region
was dreadfully torn to pieces by the conflict, but now you see no trace
of it
only the cemeteries. _______________ 1 We chatted in one of
the
old-fashioned, wood-panelled rooms of her ancestral village home. She
was a
slender, elderly gentlewoman, but though the years had left their mark
they had
in nowise subdued her natural alertness and enthusiasm. |